The Last Age
The lord of this land fell to one knee, his mace clattering from his hands as battle wounds, silver, and holy smites took their toll upon his ravaged form and rent armor. Numerous paladins surrounded him in his throne room, each mightier than he had been in his mortal life.
"It is over, Death Knight." One particularly mouthy champion uttered from within his bucket helm. "The shame you bring upon your church, upon your brothers, upon my order, shall be ended at last."
Ah. That explained it. They'd been pledged to the same deity at some point in time. Separated by centuries, of course, but the sentiment apparently still stood. Self-righteous fools.
"Allow me to extend my congratulations, brothers and sisters." Dragan chuckled mockingly, ripping his helm off his head. It wasn't as if he had any need for it anymore. Not with his unlife fast approaching its end. "In slaying me, you have doomed the people of this land. In assauging your precious egos and pride, you have stripped away any bastion of safety and security that any person within this kingdom could have had. After I butchered their mad tyrant of a king, this is the first time that this realm has seen stability and peace within decades. And you've all just stripped it away. No armies defending their borders. My presence stayed the hand of vampires that would have been worse than myself eyeing this territory."
A bitter, rasping laugh escaped his lips even as his vision blurred.
"But by all means, crusade onward. Leave the shattered lives of an entire kingdom behind. You've more creatures of the night to slay, after all..." Dragan spoke his last, the final dregs of his strength expended as his body succumbed, collapsing.
Dragan rose, and was given succor. An unfamiliar setting greeted him, and he frowned from...beneath his helm? A quick inspection of his body revealed that he was still wearing his armor, damaged as it was from his final battle. How odd. He could have sworn that he'd at least died without his helmet on. Still, while the plate was servicable in its current state, it was far from acceptable. That would have to be fixed after he got a handle on his surroundings and dealt with the thirst creeping up within him.
He was in...the middle of a city slum? This certainly wasn't where he'd died. Someone had moved his body. Their bodies, judging by the forms of the occupants of the other two sarcophagi rising from their torpor as well. And yet...ah. A familiar sight at last. The Cathedral. They were in Alavaris, then. Safe ground, at least in theory.
The Death Knight removed his helm as he beheld his two compatriots, tucking it under his shoulder. Well, well. He was at least familiar with the other two. The love martyr, and the shadow witch. Dragan certainly could have had better companions at the moment. Still, he could also have had worse. After all, neither were the Blight Lord, though that was certainly an admittedly low bar.
With no one else saying anything for the moment, it fell to him to break the ice.
"Well met, the both of you. Our goddess has given us a call to answer. Shall we oblige her?"